


The Wilted Flower of Steel Bleeds Tears

by kateyes085



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst and Humor, F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyes085/pseuds/kateyes085
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gannicus' life is full … full of wine and women of questionable virtue as he basks in the form glories fell upon him from the arena.  He is bitter and guilt ridden from the death of Melita.  Fate brings him unto the fold of his brotherhood fallen into rebellion against the Roman Empire.  </p>
<p>Orianthe was bartered away in an attempt at peaceful alliance between Rome and her tribe.  She endured years of cruelty and abuse at the hands of her husband until the Gods brought Spartacus and his band of rebels to raid her villa.  </p>
<p>Will they find love or are they too damaged to find happiness in such savage times?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wilted Flower of Steel Bleeds Tears

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of an AR with Agron/Nasir's relationship running cannon (I enjoy it too much to mess with it *snickers*) with Gannicus actually finding love. 
> 
> Honestly, he has always been an extreme selfish prick in my opinion, but that is the point, right. I do believe he loved Melitta and she him, but I think it was a friendship that was confused with lust from their "tryst" and that was it. He is weighed down with guilt from the outcome and has been for years; only seeking forgiveness from his "brother" Oenomaus. He is surly, selfish and a drunken manwhore (which is why we love him). 
> 
> Orianthe has a sharp tongue and mind. She veraciously studies the teachings of the scholars of the day. Now, keep in mind, I've had this story formulating in my head since Gannicus showed up in the arena this season. The best visual I can provide is the new companion for Dr. Who (I saw her pic and I was like damn! That's Orianthe!) Tiny, feisty and she LOATHES men and will no longer be subjugated by them now that her husband is deceased. She was offered in marriage to a prominent Roman to garner peace in one of the warring tribes against Rome, so she is a Roman citizen only by marriage.

~*~

Orianthe is reading in her chambers when the first cries of the attacking rebellion are heard.  She abandons her scrolls to the secretary and crosses to the doorway. 

"Domina!" Mia cries running towards her.  There is a large black man clothed in only a subligaria and little else running after her banishing a sword.  Mia runs to her Domina.

"Mia!" Orianthe cries grabbing the frightened girl pulling her behind herself to protect her.

"Are you the Dominus of this house?" the shorter, darker man to Spartacus' right asks to which her husband acknowledges. "Then we should have words," he growls.

Orianthe stands in the corner of the courtyard soothing Mia's fears and listening to the Gaul; Crixus, she believes remembering him to be a gladiator from those retched games her husband always forced her to attend.  Occasionally, she cringes at something breaking or her husband's cries in pain. 

A boorish Gaul staggers and approaches from behind.  He grabs Mia's face and squeezes her cheeks tightly, "You stir my cock.  I shall see you bounce prettily upon it," he sneers drunkenly at Mia's cries from fear and pain. 

Orianthe bristles slapping his hand away from Mia, "Release her at once!"  She demands grabbing Mia's wrist and drags her away towards the house. 

"You shall do just as well," he growls wrenching Orianthe's elbow back twisting her arm behind her.  He exhales his sour, acidic breathe into her face, "One cunt is the same as another," he says before he runs the flat of his tongue up the side of her face causing her to retch.

"Domina!"  Mia cries trying helplessly to pull the brute off of her mistress.

"I think not," Orianthe hisses viciously stomping her slipped foot on his instep.  He yelps in pain and releases her.  She pulls Mia behind her.  "You smell," she states bluntly, "And I begin to question your abilities towards logic, since you seem to lack the senses the Gods bestow upon a common rock." 

He roars in response, "You will attend my cock well bitch," closing in on her and raises his hand to strike. 

Orianthe brandishes a small dagger from within her robes.  The jagged edge presses sharply into his crotch.  "I would sooner see cock split from balls," she spits up into his face.

"Rhaskos!" Spartacus bellows from the steps leading down into the courtyard. All eyes turn to Spartacus and the two gladiators that flank his sides. 

"You speak of freedom," Orianthe yells over her shoulder pressing pointed tip into the sensitive skin eliciting a quiet whimper of pain from Rhaskos.  She turns and speaks to Spartacus hiding her dagger again from view, "Then what of those weaker and fairer than your gladiators, Spartacus?  Honey-sweetened words drip pompously from your lips," she mocks.

"Remember to whom you speak Domina," the taller gladiator with eyes of blue snarls as impudent dog in vain attempt to gain the favor of its master.

"Do not call me that," she snaps and shocks gladiator.  "You and your Spartacus have seen to it that I am no longer Domina of this villa," she states pointing towards the corpse of her dead husband.  She looks on the Gaul who had "words" with her husband, "Gratitude," she thanks him before continuing.  "My name is Orianthe, and I shall be addressed as such.  You and yours will surely seek to fill yourselves of our stores.  Please allow to take stock so you may be provided an accounting of that which is to be provided?" she asks Spartacus. 

"Gratitude," Spartacus murmurs as she move towards the house with Mia in tow.

She turns and faces him, gently placing her small hand on his forearm, "See that all of manner are treated equally and in kind, as such respect and loyalty would be returned in kind," she finishes before she asks, "Please have your men refrain from molesting my ladies.  I will not have my ladies brought to harm," she sternly informs him to which he acknowledges with a mollified nod.

"Why do you thank me?" Crixus blocks her way and inquires.

She stares heavily up at him and then glares darkly at the rotting corpse of her late husband.  "The bonds of slavery are not always cast in iron," she replies and retreats. 

"The Dominus?" Spartacus asks of Crixus.

"He spoke of a woman matching Naevia's description …" Crixus explains while cleaning his hands of the Dominus' blood.

"Naevia?" Orianthe stops and turns to ask.

"You know of her?" a glimmer of hope shines within Crixus. "Speak woman! Put words to fucking tongue," he growls forcing in on her grabbing her wrist.

"Only that I tried to make her as comfortable as possible before she was sent to cart.  He …" she says glancing at her husband's body "was an exceedingly cruel man.  I tended her wounds and saw her fed and bathed.  She was sent to a villa south of here … Varon?  I can look into it further.  Could you please release me?  I feel you might shatter the bone," she finishes with a wince and grimace to Crixus' mumbled apologies.  "I must to my tasks," she informs them crisply rubbing her wore wrist and retreats again. 

The three former gladiators watch her retreat while instructing her attendant on what was to be cataloged in a swirl of modest silk and the scent of lavender.. 

~*~

Orianthe approaches Spartacus' room to see the three gladiators in conference and two others whom she had not seen earlier throw Tiberius against the stone wall of the villa.  "You insist on training this fuck," Crixus growls as he paces the room like a caged beast.

"What has happened?" Orianthe demands pushing into the center of the room, "Tiberius?"

"He made attempt on Spartacus' life," the taller gladiator barks. 

Orianthe looks on Tiberius as a disappointed mother upon a small child.  Tiberius bows his head.  "Why would you do such a thing Tiberius?" she asks.

Tiberius' eyes flash angrily at the Thracian, "He has all but killed me.  Offers forth freedoms that are not his to grant.  Is he to be my new master?"

Orianthe purses her lips in anger.  Tiberius lowers head in supplication, "The boy deserves opportunity," she informs the men.

"He was given such opportunity and threw it in fucking face," Crixus snarls. 

"God save me, I find myself in agreement with a Gaul," the other gladiator sneers facing Spartacus. 

Orianthe turns to plead for Tiberius, "The boy has only known the bonds of slavery.  He but arrived at this house not long after I," she explains.  "The strength of such tethers is not easily severed," she reasons.

"Perhaps never to be so," Crixus states. 

"And if you take his life?" Orianthe inquires, "What message would that give to those who would join your cause?"

"That they best be fucking agreeable," the blue-eyed boy snaps.

"So you are Romans then?" she snaps back at him. 

"You are the only Roman in this room," he baits. 

"I am not a Roman," Orianthe hisses and marches up towards the towering gladiator wide crystal blue eyes scorching in glare, neither intimidated nor cowering, as her petite stature should consider.  "What do they call you?" she demands, "I know he is Spartacus and I know of the undefeated Gaul, Crixus, from those detestable games my husband required that I attend, but you?  I do not know you.  I should know the name of the errant mongrel that snaps and barks at my every turn so that I may properly address him in reprimand."

His ears turn red and he answers her through clenched jaw and teeth, "My people call me Agron."

Orianthe blinks.  "A-Agron?" she stutters, her eyes flicker to the puckered scar overlying his heart.  She recovers quickly, "I am sure your mother trembles at the thought of such ill representation of manners; though with considered company it is no wonder errant mongrel hisses and snaps when provoked."

"You will not speak of my mother," he roars and jerks from his seat on the desk, but is restrained by Spartacus' hand.

"Would that you not demonstrate lacking manners thus I have to revisit the matter," she hisses in acidic reply, "Spartacus, what will you do with Tiberius?" she inquires.

"Domina," Tiberius pleads. She glares hotly at him over her shoulder for use of her previous title. He bows his head again, cheeks tinged hotly. 

"I shall train him as Batiatus had Doctore train me," Spartacus decides.

"And we see how well that turned out," Agron mocks before he stands and leaves the room.

Crixus regards Tiberius a moment and states, "If he makes further attempt he shall follow his fucking Dominus," before he backhands raising a bloodied welt on Tiberius' lip.  Crixus' men drag Tiberius from the room and Orianthe nervously watches on.

"He will come to no harm Orianthe," Spartacus assures her. 

"Apologies.  I do tend to worry for those in my care," she explains with a self-deprecating laugh. "I would have a word?" she asks.  He inclines he head towards the secretary.  "I make offer of proposition," she begins.  "My husband was one of substantial estate.  As he has no heir, after an adequate mourning period and if no succession of suitor, the estate would be returned to Roman purse.  I would see it liquidated and provide you with coin, provision and endorsement of such."

"Why would you provide such bounty?" Spartacus inquires cautiously. 

"My reasons are mine and mine alone," she states simply.  "I will leave you to contemplate my offer.  Mia?" she calls to the far corner of the entranceway.  Her attendant comes forth with a collection of rolled scrolls.  "These will assist in your inventory.  If you do not mind, I will retire for the evening," she smiles to Spartacus and takes her leave.

~*~

Orianthe and Mia wander through the courtyard providing water and refreshments to those who are training.  She comes upon Donar and Agron who are discussing the fate of young Tiberius. 

"Agron," she inquires.  He responds with a labored sigh and a glare.  Unphased, she continues, "Apologies for my terse words and demeanor from before," he responds with a nod and a grunt. "I should not have spoken ill of your mother, it was uncalled for," he continues to stare at her.  "What, what of the rest of your family? Were you all enslaved by the Romans?" she asks. 

If he found her line of questioning odd, he showed no such indication, "My brother and I were captured and sold to the house of Batiatus," his ears turn red again and his hand tightens on the mantle of his sword, "I know not the outcome of the rest of my family," he states thickly. 

"You have a brother?" she questions lightly, "Well blessings to you then," she smiles and hands him a cup of water.  His eyes darken and his fingers tighten around the cup she hands to him.  She looks at his hand encasing hers and then to his strained expression.  "Oh," she whispers.  "Oh, apologies …" she swallows heavily, "take rest and refreshments so you do not expire from the heat," she babbles snatching back her hand and turns to retreat in her embarrassment.

Mia turns to follows Orianthe, but Agron grabs her elbow, "Were her promises to Spartacus true?" he demands tersely.

"If my mistress made any offers of assistance to your Spartacus, than you can stand firm that they are honest and true," she says.  Agron looks distrustingly after their benefactor.  "My mistress is a fair and honorable woman, she is a student of the old world scholars, and has a fiercely independent spirit; she was merely bound to my Dominus through circumstances beyond her control.  She is only trying to correct the wrongs that have befallen you and your men," Agron remains still unconvinced.  "Why would a woman of such status ever deign to further a lowly slave to reach farther than their station?  She teaches me to read and to calculate sums.  She is of the opinion that one's mind is more powerful than that of the sharpest blade.  There are no misgivings within her offers, of that I can assure," Mia states earnestly before she turns and quickly returns to Orianthe's side. 

~*~

“Torchers!  Arriving from the North,” Crixus shouts as the scouting party pushes through the wooden doors of the villa. 

“Six, maybe more,” he says turning back to his men that follow, “Gather the men!”

 “Wait,” Spartacus cautions grabbing Crixus’ arm.  “These may be scouts from a larger force.  If a single rider were to escape our grasp it could bring a far greater concern,” he tries to reason. 

 “Then we shall grip tightly,” Crixus snaps. 

Tiberius stands from where he lounges with the other former house slaves near the fire.  Spartacus contemplates his options.  “There is a better way.  One that will yet keep our movements hidden from the Romans.” 

Tiberius reaches the large wooden door and opens it to the pounding from the other side.  He opens the doors and allows the Romans to enter.  “I would have words with your Dominus on orders of Seppius,” the leader informs him. 

“Apologies.  Business has called him to Micentia,” The leader's eyes scan the courtyard looking for any discrepancies. 

"Micentia?  I’ve never known him to favor the city,” the Roman questions. 

“He does not.  He favors its whores,” Tiberius informs the solider with a smirk bringing forth a chuckled response. 

“You are his body slave, are you not?” the leader questions further.

“Tiberius,” he offers. 

“Tiberius!" the man acknowledges and tightens his grip on his sword and begins to draw, "Tell me why you are not at your Dominus’ side?” 

Tiberius blinks.  “Because there is no one he trusts more to see his villa attended, while his cock is satisfied,” Tiberius smirks knowingly in response.

“You serve your master well,” the solider praises.  Tiberius swallows hard when the man sheathes his sword.  The Roman’s eyes flick down to Tiberius' neck.  The fading lines of his missing collar can still be seen.  Tiberius lowers his eyes in a moment of panic.  The man’s eyes drift to the darkened corners of the courtyard, “Return to your charge!”

Orianthe quietly watches with the others as the scene unfolds from the security of the enclosed room that they hid in.  She sees that the solider notices Tiberius' missing collar and maneuvers herself to the closed curtain.  She pushes quickly through making sure not to reveal the others from their hiding spot, "Apologies, I have only just been informed of your arrival.  How may I help you?" she asks with a wide welcoming smile. 

The soldiers form rank and bow to her, "Domina, we are to have words with your Dominus  on order of Seppius."

"Ah, how does good Seppius fair?" she asks absently, "Apologies yet again, but the Dominus is away to Micentia on business," she turns to Tiberius, "Did you not inform him Tiberius?" 

Tiberius bows in respect, "Domina, I was about to offer something to make effort worthwhile since they had come a fair distance from Capua."

"He betrays us!" Crixus yells and the courtyard fills with the gladiators and slaves hiding in the main villa. 

The Romans are far outmatched.  Orianthe and Tiberius are pushed to the side, Tiberius landing on his backside and Orianthe crashing into the wall, scratching her face.  A sword falls before them.  Tiberius sees a Roman charging towards Spartacus' exposed flank.  He grabs the sword and buries it deep in the Roman's back.  He meets Spartacus' shocked gaze and sees his brief nod. 

Crixus storms towards the boy and grips his throat.  "No!" Orianthe screams, scrambling to Tiberius' rescue, slapping, pulling and punching ineffectually on Crixus' muscular arm that shoves Tiberius back into a pillar with a firm grip around his throat. 

“Why did you stop them from leaving?” he growls.

“He killed a man!” Spartacus yells stepping forward in Tiberius' defense. 

 “When he saw they would not win,” Crixus growls tightening his grip.

Tiberius gasps and coughs pulling at Crixus' immovable fingers, “His eyes fell to my neck."

"Let him go," Orianthe cries still pulling desperately, "The Roman saw the absence of Tiberius' collar!  If he had not tried to allow them entrance, they would have returned with more men," she pleads still pulling ineffectually.

Crixus slowly releases Tiberius who slumps against the pillar coughing and gasping.  Orianthe releases her hold on Crixus to help him. 

Spartacus walks over and helps Tiberius to stand.  “You did well, Tiberius,” Spartacus tells him and squeezes his shoulder in thanks. 

 “Nasir,” he says quietly.  His eyes darting to Agron’s and then he turns to Orianthe who nods also and smiles weakly as she tucks his long hair behind his ear in affection.  “My brother called me Nasir.”  Tiberius looks back to Agron who gives him a nod of acknowledgement, and Nasir finally relaxes. 

~*~

 

 


End file.
